


i think of you (day and night)

by saltyypercy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, i just love them so much, posally, posally is the reason i live, there wasn't enough posally fics in the world so i wrote one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyypercy/pseuds/saltyypercy
Summary: If there’s one thing Poseidon had learned in his immortal (and briefly mortal) life, it was that mortals and gods don’t love the same.or the one where poseidon thinks of sally
Relationships: Sally Jackson/Poseidon (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	i think of you (day and night)

**Author's Note:**

> the og couple

“Hey dad, so I was talking to Annabeth the other day, and we, well, she had a question. Why do I look like you and not Mom if you don’t have DNA?” 

Poseidon looked up from his drink. 

“That’s a very good question, Percy.”

Percy smiled, “Yeah, well, Annabeth _did_ come up with it,”

* * *

If there’s one thing Poseidon had learned in his immortal (and briefly mortal) life, it was that mortals and gods don’t love the same. Mortal emotions are a foreign thing to most gods. It’s difficult for them to grasp the idea of “love” because they don’t _need_ it.

That’s the thing about mortals. They were _created_ to love. They can’t live without it.

Poseidon thinks he finally understood that 18 years ago.

He thinks (knows, rather) Sally Jackson was the reason. 

He probably would have been worried if it had been anyone else. Worried about what was happening to him, the change coursing through his veins. Worried when he began to feel himself slipping away from godhood.

If it was anyone else, Poseidon would have ended it right then and there. 

But it was Sally and what he was feeling was new and exciting and something he couldn’t put his finger on. It wasn’t love; it wasn’t _his_ version of love. 

He thinks that was the point. Because it wasn't godly love at all, it was pure mortal love and it felt _good_.

That’s the thing about mortal love. It plays with your heart and your head in ways you can’t understand, and Poseidon couldn’t be worried when it was Sally. The only thing that seemed to matter was her. 

He was wary at first when he felt himself changing. He could feel the ichor in his veins fading from a blinding gold to a rich red, the influence of his heart altering the composition of his being, bringing mortal DNA into his body. He was becoming more human. More fragile. 

Fragile as he was, the love in his veins made him feel as invincible as ever.

One glance at the woman beside him melted his worry, a true depiction of beauty, her hair blowing in the breeze and eyes sparkling in elation.

Poseidon decided right then she would be the death of him, and if he was becoming a mortal for her to accomplish that then so be it.

It was a strange, humbling epiphany. That he, an immortal and all-powerful god, was so simply in love with a woman he’d run into on the beach. So much so that his divine essence was dissolving into that of a mortal. 

He thinks he would have preferred it that way.

* * *

The sun had begun to set, sinking below the horizon line, painting the water in pinks and oranges and reds. It was calm enough he could see his reflection, a man of roughly twenty-two with sun-kissed skin and black wind-swept hair. Despite the cooling air, the sand was still warm beneath him.

That day in early May had been one of those rare occurrences when he could get away, escaping the taxing burden of his godly duties, and relax on the beach amongst the mortals.

Nostalgia isn’t something gods feel often, but that’s the word Poseidon would use. Reminiscing about his time spent as a mortal seemed silly to the god, but he felt himself doing it often these days. 

He supposes he missed the simplicity of being a mortal. He missed the way he could be so carefree, spontaneous, being able to live in the moment without the worry of godly affairs. He missed how easy it was, how fun it was after he got used to living like one of them.

The sun had abandoned the sky, disappearing below the horizon, the colors on the water changing to a deep blue and purple, a silver streak slicing through it.

Poseidon stood, reaching down and pulling his trident from the sand. He sighed, turning to check that nobody was around to witness him vanish.

He was met with a face full of brown hair.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect you to turn around,”

The woman took a step back and met his eyes. “I was coming to ask you a question, actually, if you didn’t mind,”

One smile and he was enthralled, infatuated with the woman in front of him.

Her eyes were blue, intriguingly so. They seemed to change from second to second, sometimes a dark blue and others nearly a gray. 

Poseidon smiled back, “Ask away,”

“Is that a trident you’re holding?”

Poseidon raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been expecting that question.

“You can see it?” 

She looked at him strangely, as if he had told her the sky was red and not blue.

“Of course I can see it, I have eyes,”

He chuckled, “You do, gorgeous ones at that,”

“I’m assuming that’s a yes then,” she raised her eyebrow back at him.

“You’d be correct,”

He had realized she was clear-sighted by then. He supposed she could have been a demigod, but she didn’t give off a particularly “non-human” aura. 

“Can I ask a second question?”

“I think you just did,”

She ignored him. “Can you explain it to me?”

Those blue eyes said what she didn’t― _tell me I’m not crazy, that you can see them too._

“Can I explain the things you see? The things that make you think you’re crazy?” He chuckled again. “I think you ran into the right person for those questions.”

* * *

Poseidon thinks he knew from the beginning he was in love with her, he just didn’t understand what the feeling of _love_ was. 

It wasn’t one he ever wanted to forget. 

He thinks he knew he was in love with her before he offered her what he’d offered no other mortal who’d fallen into his arms. Before he’d offered to stop the tide, which, in the language of the gods, was a declaration of love in and of itself. Before he’d offered to make her immortal, to live with him for eternity in the safety of his arms and the water. 

He thinks she wanted to say yes.

* * *

“I love you, Sally,” 

She smiled and laughed, “Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he insisted. “Watch, I’ll even stop the tide for you,”

Poseidon grabbed her arm and turned her towards the water. It was late June, but the evening air was chilly enough to create goosebumps on her arms.

He stood behind her, her back against his chest and his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers.

She moved to look up at him.

“That’s an old trick, you’re going to have to try harder,” he didn’t have to look to know she was smiling.

He stopped the tide anyway, relishing the way she regarded the water in wonder.

“How about a new trick, then. Since apparently me _stopping the tide_ isn’t good enough for my love,”

She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes and trying not to smile. “Fine, let’s see this ‘new trick’ you came up with then,”

He spun her around on the sand so she was looking up at him. He wanted to see her face.

“What if I build you a palace at the bottom of the sea? You’re a queen among women, Sally Jackson, and a queen deserves a palace. I’ll make you immortal. I’d be yours forever. You’d never have to worry about anything again. It’ll be you and me, always,”

She sucked in a breath, “Oh, Poseidon.”

* * *

When Sally looked at him and declined his offers saying she didn’t need his gifts and godly displays of affection, well, Poseidon supposes that was when he started becoming mortal.

If he couldn’t have her for an eternity as a god, maybe he could have her until death do them part as a mortal. 

When she told him she wanted her life to mean something, that she had to live it herself, and one day when it was all said and done she would pass across the Styx on Charon’s boat like the rest of them, he realized something about mortals. Their lives are precious _because_ of love. Love makes a person whole. It tethers them to the world; It comforts and protects them. 

Love is something that made their lives worth living. 

It was something that made death easier, too. Knowing they spent their lives with someone they loved so wholly provided the comfort they needed to pass into the world of the dead easier.

He thinks Sally knew that already.

She knew he was changing, too. Becoming a lesser being so he could spend his days with her away from the responsibilities that came with being the sea god. 

Somehow she knew he was becoming a mortal. Maybe it was the fact he had woken up with stubble on more than one occasion or the fact he’d started eating far more mortal food than usual.

Maybe it was because she was Sally and he was Poseidon and she just _knew_.

He thinks that’s when she started slipping through his fingers.

* * *

He woke to Sally looking down at him, her hand on his cheek.

“Good morning,” 

“Good morning,” His voice was gravelly, a stark contrast to her soft, sweet one.

She was regarding him oddly, the warmth of her hand burning into his cheek. He welcomed it.

“Somethin’ the matter?”

“Not ‘the matter’ really, but you have stubble. You’re a god; your appearance doesn’t change unless you want it to,”

She was right. He didn’t remember wanting to grow stubble overnight. 

He improvised, “What can I say, you make me want to grow old with you,”

It wasn’t a lie. Maybe he didn’t want to grow stubble specifically, but there was something about her that made him want to age. It made him want to grow old and spend every waking moment he could with her.

He decided not to mention it was unintentional.

* * *

Poseidon likes to think she wanted him to stay. Wanted him to be hers and to do so as a mortal.

And maybe she did want him to stay but knew it would be too dangerous. Maybe she knew him becoming fully mortal would cause the powers that held the universe together to become unbalanced, and maybe she knew the aftermath would be destructive.

He thinks that’s why she said goodbye.

* * *

He had a bad feeling about that day before the sun was fully in the sky.

He woke up at 6:30 to an empty bed and a note from Sally.

_On a walk, I’ll be back to make breakfast._

_~ S_

The note gave no indication she wanted him to follow, so instead, he got up to get ready for the day. 

A glance in the bathroom mirror revealed he had a five o’clock shadow, something that had begun happening more often than not. 

A quick shave and shower later, Poseidon made his way out to the kitchen where Sally was sitting at the island.

She made no move to get up and hug him like she usually did, which only added to the anxiety pooling in the pit of his stomach. Instead, he walked over to her with a hug and a _good morning_ , to which she answered with a squeeze back and a kiss to his cheek.

His unease dissipated throughout the day, masked by the feelings of joy and the love he felt for her. 

It wasn’t until later that night Poseidon’s fear reared its face again.

The two of them were curled up on the couch watching some movie he doesn’t remember the name of. He was too focused on how fast he could feel her heart beating and how he could tell she was holding something back from him.

He could feel the panic settling in his chest and weighing him down. Panic was a mortal emotion he never wanted to feel, especially when she was the one causing it. 

Poseidon found his voice, “Sally, will you talk to me? Something doesn’t seem right,”

She stiffened in his arms.

“I think you need to go back.”

He was dreaming, that was the only explanation he could think of in the moment. He was having a nightmare and he would wake up to a face full of hair and soft breathing on his neck, his arms wrapped securely around her slumbering body. 

Poseidon forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat, “What do you mean I need to go back?”

It was only early January, just after the New Year. It had only been nine months since their first encounter on the beach. Nine months that somehow felt like a second and an eternity all at once.

It had only been nine months since he had fallen in love with her. He wasn’t ready to lose her yet.

(He thinks even after 18 years, he still wouldn’t be ready).

Sally turned to look at him, her blue eyes dark and glazed over with unshed tears.

“You need to go home, Poseidon. Back to your palace, or Olympus, or wherever else you went before you were here with me,”

His eyes were watering now despite his attempts to hold it back. “But Sally, I thought we were doing well… what happened?”

He’d never felt this before. It was a new feeling, a horrible one too. 

_Gods don’t feel emotions like this_ , he thought. It took him a moment to figure out what it was. 

_Heartbreak_ , he decided.

“We were! We are, it’s just…well, you’re a god, Poseidon. You have responsibilities I can’t even begin to understand. I’m not a selfish person, Po, you know that. I can’t, in good conscience, take you away from your life and your duties just because I’m the girl who fell in love with a god. The girl who had a god fall in love with her. You weren’t meant to be mine,”

Poseidon knew deep down she was right. He was a god and she was a mortal. He wasn’t meant to spend his life on earth with a mortal as his wife. He was needed in the world of the gods and titans and monsters. But what the Fates intended and what felt _right_ had seemed like two very different things.

That didn’t stop him from trying to convince her otherwise.

“Sally, I love you. I’ve never loved anyone like this—like a mortal. I don’t _want_ to love anyone else like this,” The desperation was clear in his voice, even to him. “Please, Sally. I want you, always you, forever,” 

A tear made its way down his face. _When was the last time he had cried?_ She reached her hand to his cheek and brushed it away with her thumb but didn’t respond. Instead, she gave him a sad smile and wrapped her arms around him, burying her head against his neck.

“But what,” his voice cracked. “What about the—” 

“I’ll be okay, I can handle it on my own,”

“But I don’t _want_ you to have to handle it on your own! Sally—”

“Poseidon,”

He knew he sounded desperate. He knew her mind was made up, too. He could argue until his voice was hoarse and he cried himself dry and she wouldn’t change her mind. She was stubborn like that, one of the traits Poseidon found endearing about her. She knew what she wanted and didn’t let anyone influence it.

He had asked her if they could spend one more night together if only so he could hold her in his arms one last time. She agreed but made it clear cuddling would be the extent of their last night together. He understood why, of course. Come morning, it would be far too hard for either of them to let go of one another otherwise.

Poseidon made sure he held her close and committed all of her to memory.

He didn’t let go of her once.

Morning came as the moon sunk below the horizon, the sun replacing it in the sky. To most, it was the signal life would continue for another day. To Poseidon, it indicated the end of his.

She kissed him goodbye and whispered an ‘ _I love you’_ in the soft light of the morning, letting the first tear make its way down her face. 

She turned away and didn’t look back.

He was left standing on the beach, watching his love walk away from him, tears stinging his eyes, and the weight in his chest suffocating. He went silently back to the world of gods and monsters. 

He returned home with a broken heart and the memories of days spent on the beach in the sun and the sand and the waves, stolen glances and kisses and the way she felt in his arms, his head swimming with the lines of a prophecy.

* * *

They had already known she was pregnant before he’d left. He remembers being ecstatic, a smile stuck on his face as he pulled her into him. He remembers the confidence she wore even then, a 20-year-old telling her god boyfriend she was pregnant with his child. The same child that had his life prophesied before he was ever thought of. He remembers the challenging look in her eyes saying _“Tell me to get rid of it. I dare you.”_

Of course, he would never say that, but he’d be lying if it wasn’t a nagging thought at the back of his head. His godly side telling him they could avoid all of the trouble that came with the child if there was no child. But his mortal side had blocked it out in favor of cherishing the feeling of love coursing through his veins.

As he returned to his godly life, he hoped since he had been in a semi-mortal state his child could live unnoticed for a few years. He hoped he could delay the worry lines and the gray hair that would appear on his love until the time was better. He hoped he could delay the war that would come if anyone found out about her and his child.

In true Fates fashion, that didn’t happen. He supposed that was the consequence of his actions. Nearly giving up thousands of years of history for one mortal whose entire life would be merely a percentage of his existence.

He worried about her constantly, debating whether or not he should go against her wishes and check on her. He was worried they would find out about his child; worried they would hurt her.

He thinks that’s why he was intemperate.

* * *

He tried to stay away, truly.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling in his chest, opting instead to focus on his duties as the Sea God.

The mortals were beginning to worry. Tsunamis and hurricanes were terrorizing the coasts, destroying cities and creating chaos. An unusual number of ships had capsized or gone missing. Shark attacks were climbing to record numbers. 

None of it had been intentional, of course. A deadly side effect of his emotions.

He knew it wasn’t fair to inflict destruction on the world. The world wasn’t at fault; nobody was, really.

After several months of mayhem, he knew he had to see her.

He felt silly, like the crazy ex-boyfriend in the movies she made him watch, sitting on the bench outside of the diner she worked at, glancing through the window to look at her. But if silly brought him solace, he’d take silly.

She still looked beautiful, as if he expected her to look anything but.

It was nearing five o’clock, the end of her Thursday shift. Anxiety began forming in his stomach. He wasn’t sure she’d even want to see him. He didn’t think of that before.

Poseidon had been so busy getting in his head he hadn’t noticed her walk out of the diner.

He froze, his eyes glued to her as she walked past the bench. She gave no indication she even noticed him, and his heart sank.

She was getting further and further away, but he couldn’t move. He seemed to be glued to the bench beneath him, his subconscious telling him to _leave it be_ , _don’t mess with her life more than you already have._

Three steps. 

Seven. 

Ten.

She stopped.

“Are you going to sit there or are you going to walk with me?”

***

She’d invited him over for dinner and a movie as long as he promised an explanation for the destruction he had caused. He felt like a child being scolded for sneaking candy, but he complied nonetheless.

They ate and talked and laughed, and for a moment he imagined nothing had changed.

He offered to wash the dishes. She smiled and said thank you.

***

They sat on the couch, the television providing background noise as she filled him in on the last few months. His hands rested on her baby bump.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you,”

“I know,” he gave her a sad smile.

He felt like crying, something he’d been feeling a lot the past three months. 

“I still love you,” he glanced down at her.

“I know,” she said.

***

They spent the night talking.

She had told him it was better this way. Better because this way she wouldn’t be selfish; if he wasn’t here for her to have, she couldn’t tell him to stay.

He wanted her to tell him to stay.

***

He held her while she cried.

He doesn’t remember why or when she started crying, only that she was in his arms, and who was he to deny her comfort?

She sniffled and wiped her eyes, apologizing for getting his shirt wet.

He dried it and told her he would always be a shoulder for her to cry on.

***

Poseidon glanced at the clock; it was nearly midnight.

He didn’t want to push his luck by staying past his welcome.

He made a move to stand. She grabbed his shirt.

“Stay. Just for a little while.” 

***

They both knew he couldn’t stay with her, not if there was any chance of him remaining a god.

He offered to build her the palace once more. She declined.

They decided he would visit occasionally, a weekend or two a month. Anything more and they risked giving into want over reason.

She told him only until the baby was born. She knew she could raise the baby on her own, but not with the added risk of having a god around.

He agreed.

***

He pressed a kiss to her temple and pulled the sheet over them.

“I love you,” he whispered.

She was already asleep.

***

Morning came with the sun and the promise of something new.

He woke with her in his arms and a smile on his face.

She walked with him to the beach, holding his hand. This time no tears were threatening to spill.

He made the right choice, coming to see her. While he didn’t get what he had so desperately desired, he was happy for the first time since they said goodbye. The water was calm; the breeze gentle.

She smiled at him and he smiled back. 

There was no goodbye, only a kiss and a _see you soon_. 

* * *

He calmed down after that. 

It didn’t make sense to him, how three months of pain and heartache could dissipate so quickly. How one minute he was wrecking cities and the next he was in the same bed they shared for months, a promise whispered between them.

He was confused, sure, but he was happy, too.

That’s what mortal love does. It doesn’t make sense. It’s a powerful concept, and Poseidon thinks that’s the reason Percy had become his most powerful son. He had been created from pure, untainted mortal love mixed with the godly blood left in Poseidon.

Two of the most powerful things in all of creation had come together to form his child. A demigod with powers so strong they would grow to rival those of his father and his father’s father.

He thinks Sally was right. She could handle it on her own. 

* * *

Poseidon looked at Percy, the living proof of his time spent with Sally. He may have looked like his father, but his mother was just as prominent a part of him.

“Well, I suppose you look like me because I was as close to mortal as I could be.” He put his head down.

They were silent for a moment. 

“You still love her, don’t you?”

The noise of the diner faded and Poseidon looked back up.

He smiled sadly. 

“I do.”

“She loves you too, you know. She might love Paul now too, but from how she talks about you, she still loves you.”

Poseidon exhaled slowly, the time he spent with her playing in his head like a movie.

“I know.”

_end fic_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to simpabeth and simpforannabeth on tumblr for being my beta readers! (go give them a follow ;) )
> 
> find me on tumblr @saltyypercy


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